She swallowed, closed her eyes, then bobbed her head. “I’m sorry. I’m being… I don’t know what I’m being. I just, um, I love my job, and I swore off men and now look at me.”
He was. At her gorgeous long legs and the peep of honey-brown curls her too-skimpy armful of clothing didn’t hide, the white swell of breast, her delicate collarbone and perfect curve of lips.
And, hell, he had a hard-on, and he hadn’t even gotten the damn condom off.
“I’m not your ex,” he said.
Cait gave another of those funny little nods. “I know.” She summoned a small apologetic smile. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were like him.”
He scrubbed a hand over his head, probably making his hair stand on end, then stood. “I’ve got to get rid of this condom.”
“Yes, you do.” There was a little bit of a sparkle in her eyes, but some pink in her cheeks, too.
He kissed her cheek on the way by. He hated condoms, disposing of them being the number one reason. There was no dignity in his retreat.
Noah wouldn’t have been surprised to find her already dressed when he got back to the bedroom. Despite his arousal, he should be relieved if she was, but once he’d beaten back the alarm, he couldn’t seem to find it again. Why couldn’t they make time for another round before he restored her to her brother’s bristling care?
She wore her panties and was reaching behind herself to fasten her bra when he returned, but that was as far as she’d gotten.
Hearing his footstep, she turned. “You must think I’m totally neurotic.”
“No.” Noah didn’t dare tell her what he did think about her. “You’re under a lot of stress right now. And I guess you can tell I had some of the same hesitations you did.” Hesitations. Good euphemism for fears. “I broke one of my cardinal rules tonight. I don’t have relationships—” read: sex “—with women who work for me.”
There was vulnerability in those soft gray eyes. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather end this here? I promise not to make a nuisance of myself.”
He shook his head and reached for her hand, drawing her to him. “No. I still want you, Cait. It’s been killing me, catching glimpses of you down the hall.” He nuzzled her, bumping her nose, touching his lips to the wing of her cheekbone and up to the temple. “Hard to miss you in all those Easter-egg colors.”
He could feel the curve of her smile.
“I like pretty colors.”
“Tell me you wouldn’t wallpaper every room in your house if you could.” Damn, he thought on an icy wash of alarm. He’d come so close to saying, In this house. And he’d seen it, a flash between one blink and the next, her wearing old jeans and a T-shirt that stretched over a swollen belly, in that bedroom at the head of the stairs, laughing at him over her shoulder as she stood on a stepladder smoothing a sheet of wallpaper into place, water dripping from the big squishy sponge in her hand. Wallpaper with fluffy yellow ducklings on it.
He had never in his life pictured a woman doing anything like that, and especially not to his house. A woman who was pregnant with his child.
Yellow ducklings?
She chose that moment to wrap her fingers around his stubbornly erect penis and stroke it. “You must like pretty colors.”
God, he did—when she was wearing them. Like the panties she had on right now, the soft purple of lilacs in bloom. Although he liked her even better wearing nothing at all.
He could forget the moment of insanity involving ducklings and—God forbid!—pregnancy.
His cock would never forgive him if he didn’t.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely and unfastened her bra. “You won’t be needing this.”
CHAPTER TEN
COLIN FOLLOWED CAIT into the house four days later, suit coat slung over one shoulder, the ends of his tie dangling.
“This is Nell’s late night, isn’t it?” she asked.
His grunts were as speaking as Noah’s. This was an unhappy one. “Yeah, unfortunately. You and I should have grabbed dinner on the way home.”
“I’ll cook tonight,” she offered. “How about something simple? Quesadillas?”